


boggart in the closet

by zxrycyan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggarts, Boys Being Boys, Coming Out, Crushes, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, bad humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrycyan/pseuds/zxrycyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Lupin brings a boggart to his third year Gryffindor-Slytherin class, and when it comes to Malfoy's turn, it all goes a little awry. Or a little wonderful, if you're Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	boggart in the closet

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for forced coming out, in case that's triggering to anybody!!! Please don't read if you're not comfortable with it. And thank you to my lovely betas for going over this story and making me feel assured enough to post it <3 Hope you all enjoy.

“What do you think is in that closet?” Ron whispered to him from the table over, where he was eyeing the rattling closet that their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was dragging in with equal parts excitement and wariness. “You don't think it'd be anything as nasty as the pixies, do you?”

“I'm sure it wouldn't be. There's no way Professor Lupin is as irresponsible as Lockhart,” Hermione said pointedly. 

Ron immediately leaned closer to where Hermione was seated on Harry’s other side. “As I recall, a certain  _ someone _ was mooning all over  Lockhart just a year ago,” he said. 

“That was before we all learnt what a fool and a liar he was! He’s so incompetent he could have killed us!” Hermione exclaimed. “Though, ahem, you can't deny that he had a nice smile...” 

“I can so!” Ron protested. “He has a  _ disgusting  _ smile. Having teeth that white can't be possible without using some kind of… some kind of teeth whitener! It’s unhealthy, is what it is.” 

Harry sighed loudly as Hermione leaned even closer to snap at Ron, once again caught in the middle of his best friends’ bickering. He wondered if it was possible to manoeuvre himself away from them to sit beside Neville, where it appeared infinitely more peaceful. Thankfully, Professor Lupin chose that moment to clear his throat, and Hermione’s head immediately snapped up to the front.

“Please put away your textbooks and get out your wands for today,” he began with a slight smile and his customary air of exhaustion, “We’ll be having a practical lesson, as I imagine many of you have already gathered.”

Instantly, everyone’s eyes cut to the wardrobe, which gave an obligatory rattle. Some turned their gazes back to the Professor, eyes bright and eager; others shrunk back a little, alarmed.

“There's a boggart in this closet, and our task for today will be to learn how to defeat it. I’ll be teaching you a simple spell for it, and all of you will have a chance to have a go until the boggart is gone.”

The Slytherins (Malfoy especially) looked afraid, Ron apprehensive, Hermione determined, and Harry found himself impossibly curious as to what a boggart could be. Anything that could get the snakes so terrified was a good thing in his books, at any rate. 

“Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart is and what does it do?” 

As soon as the question was spoken, Hermione was waving her hand in the air, nearly lifting herself out of the seat. Professor Lupin awarded Hermione five points and a smile for her textbook answer. He then gave a concise explanation of the spell and the wand movements for it - Riddikulus - before directing them quickly to stand in a semi-circle before the wardrobe. 

“If we’re all ready, then,” he said, and unlocked the closet with a wave of his wand.  _ I’m not!  _ Harry screamed inwardly, panicking a little. He didn't even know what his greatest fear was, how was he supposed to make it funny? And he couldn't bear the thought of failing this in front of all the Slytherins - they'd never let him live it down. 

“Mr Malfoy, you're up,” the Professor said calmly. 

With a jolt, Harry realised that it was Malfoy right at the front of the queue. He’d been so caught up in thinking about how to make Voldemort ridiculous that he'd almost missed the pricelessly queasy expression on the git’s face. Malfoy’s wand was clutched tightly in his fist, but it did nothing to disguise the way his hand was shaking, his entire body frozen with fear. 

Everyone waited with bated breath as the boggart shifted into the shape of Draco Malfoy’s worst fear. Two pale, child-sized hands wrapped around the edges of the wardrobe. Malfoy didn’t appear to be breathing at all, and Harry had to admit that he was looking forward to this. What better way to torment his arch-nemesis than with his worst fear, after all?

Its hands gripped the sides tightly as the boggart began pulling itself out, revealing pressed trousers and the green trim of a Hogwarts robe, a Slytherin tie - Malfoy was deathly afraid of a student, really? 

A collective gasp went up as the boggart revealed itself to be none other than Draco Malfoy himself. Harry was utterly confused, and even Hermione seemed stumped when he glanced out of the corner of his eyes at her. The blond prat, however, appeared to have gone about two shades paler, if that were even possible.

“Salazar,” Malfoy breathed, horrified, as the boggart version of him threw his arms up in the air with a silly, shit-eating grin on his face. 

Harry was completely entranced. Even Professor Lupin seemed, despite himself, intrigued. 

Boggart-Malfoy gave a happy little twirl, a curtsey, and blew them all a raspberry before declaring with an over-the-top wink, “I’m coming out of the closet!” 

There was utter silence for a pregnant second, before the whole class burst into half-hysterical laughter as Malfoy flushed a steady crimson from his neck up to the tips of his ears. Even his lackeys were unable to control themselves as they doubled over, clutching their stomachs and roaring with laughter. 

“Riddikulus!” the boy all but screamed, “Riddikulus! That boggart is obviously faulty,  _ Riddikulus!  _ Merlin’s pants!  _ Riddikulus!”  _

Unfortunately, he only managed to turn the robes of boggart-Malfoy into a flamboyant hot pink, give it alarmingly high heels and add sparkly glitter to its hair, which sparked a renewed roar of laughter from the class. Harry, at first frozen in shock and incredulity, could now hardly breathe around his guffaws, tears blurring his vision as he beheld boggart-Malfoy in all its magenta glory. 

“Also,” boggart-Malfoy continued dreamily, “I have a crush on Ha-” 

“-nnah Abbott!” The other Malfoy shrieked over his own voice, then promptly looked scandalized. 

The ensuing howling seemed to confuse the boggart (or perhaps it was just that Professor Lupin took pity on the Slytherin boy and stepped closer -- everyone was too busy chortling to know for sure), for soon boggart-Malfoy had morphed into a glowing pale sphere that hung above their heads. Professor Lupin threw a  _ Riddikulus  _ at it and it dissipated into grey smoke. 

“That’s quite enough,” he announced, just barely loud enough to be heard over the clamour, “While we may find our classmates’ fears to be amusing, please do understand that boggarts turn only into your worst fear, and that is no laughing matter.” 

While none of the Gryffindors were quite so willing to sympathise with Draco Malfoy, they did sober up a little at their Professor’s reprimand. Many of them were still having trouble repressing a grin or two at the bright red boy (there’s absolutely  _ no way  _ Malfoy would ever live this down), and even some of the Slytherins were in a similar state as well.

“T-there’s a problem with that boggart, do you understand me?” Malfoy demanded, shakily pointing an accusing finger at the DADA Professor. “That was  _ not  _ my greatest fear!  _ Never! _ ” 

Professor Lupin raised a hand and an eyebrow, saying appeasingly, “Do calm down, Mr Malfoy. I understand that you’re upset, but-”

Malfoy looked about ready to explode. “Upset? I’m not just  _ upset,  _ my father will hear-!” 

He stopped abruptly, realising that no, it’s not exactly a good thing to let his father hear about this, and spun around to face the class. Cheeks flaming, he narrowed his eyes and attempted to sneer. “If you know what’s good for you, my father had better not hear about this!” 

“Nobody’s scared of you, Malfoy!” Ron called back, “Merlin knows the only thing you can do is make _your_ _father_ deal with all your mess!” 

“Mr Weasley, Mr Malfoy,” Professor Lupin warned, somehow without raising his voice at all. 

As the two fumed silently, he sighed, as though only just realising how taxing it was to teach a class of immature thirteen year-olds. He scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair and said, “I’ll bring in another boggart for the rest of the class to practise next lesson. In the meantime, please read the chapter on boggarts in your textbooks and write me a summary no longer than six inches. Class dismissed.”

Over the scraping of chairs and delighted chatter, he called, “Mr Malfoy, if you could stay behind for just a minute?”

The boy skulked to the front sullenly as the rest of the third year class streamed through the door, still sniggering and shooting glances at Malfoy. Seamus Finnigan twirled out of the classroom with his robes lifted up daintily, mimicking boggart-Malfoy in a high-pitched voice, “My boggart is coming out of the closet, and if you tell my father I’ll make sure my cronies stuff you in said closet!” 

He almost immediately broke into gasping laughs with Dean after that, and Ron snorted accidentally between chortles (Hermione swatted him on the shoulder and called him  _ insensitive _ ). 

“Coming, Harry?” He called over his shoulder, startling Harry from watching the way Malfoy’s face had turned into the approximation of a tomato at Seamus’ impression of his boggart. 

“Oh,” he agreed, a little distractedly, still staring at Malfoy, “Sure,” and followed them out of the classroom along with the last few stragglers. 

Once in the corridor, he snapped back to his senses and was struck with the sudden, nonsensical curiosity of what Professor Lupin could possibly be telling the blond git. “Actually, you two should go on first,” he told Ron and Hermione, who both turned to give him questioning looks.

“I just want to, er…” He pointed over his shoulder at the classroom they’d just exited. 

“Oh!” Ron exclaimed, his face lighting up, “Spying on Malfoy? That’s a brill idea, but,” he seemed to droop in disappointment, “I’d hate to miss lunch.” 

Harry practically leapt on the opportunity, and had to consciously school his face not to seem overly eager or excited. “It’s alright, I’ll fill you in later.” 

Oddly, he felt like only him and no one else should listen in on the conversation between Malfoy and Professor Lupin. It was almost like he felt the need to protect Malfoy’s privacy, which didn’t make any sense since Harry himself would be infringing it. But then again, when had anything really made sense when it came to Malfoy?

“I honestly don’t approve of this,” Hermione began.

Harry cut in, “Save me a plate?” at the same time that Ron whined, “C’mon Hermione, I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” 

Hermione heaved a put-upon sigh and said, “Oh, alright,” as the two boys exchanged a grin and a metaphorical hi-five -- saving themselves from Hermione’s lectures often required a combined effort.

Then Ron was dragging Hermione down the corridor and Hermione was muttering ‘you’re  _ always  _ hungry enough to eat a horse, Ron’, and Harry wasn’t listening because he was trying to peek and listen through the slightly-open door at the same time. 

“-not my place to presume anything here,” Professor Lupin was saying, “but it’s important for you to know that you should not be ashamed of who you are, no matter what that may be.” His voice was gentle, calming, but his only reply was a tense, stretched-out silence. 

Harry fidgeted where he was crouching, trying to catch a glimpse of the other boy’s expression. Malfoy’s back was to the door, and from this angle Harry could only see Professor Lupin’s face. 

“I know you wouldn’t want false sympathy, Draco, but I do understand what it feels like.”

Harry was momentarily taken aback, and apparently so was Malfoy. He sounded surprised when he asked, “To be gay?” 

Their Professor responded with an enigmatic smile, neither an agreement nor a refutation. “To be different. Outcast. It’s not as terrible as you might think, though it could be overwhelming at first. And I’ll always be willing to lend a listening ear if you should ever need one.” 

“I don’t need anyone’s pity,” Malfoy sneered, though there was no heat in it - he sounded tired and defensive and confused, like he didn’t understand why anyone would offer something that nice to him. 

“And I don’t pity you,” the older man said firmly. “Think of it as empathy, or my responsibility as an adult and your teacher, or even that it’s my way of paying it forward. It’s not easy keeping everything to yourself; I’d just like to make sure you have someone to talk to when you want to.” 

The following silence was even more uncomfortable than the previous one, but Professor Lupin did not say anything to break it. Harry could hardly believe the next words that came out of Malfoy’s mouth: “Thank you.”

The dumbfounded, eavesdropping boy blinked, sat back on his heels and rubbed his ears, then his eyes for good measure. The words were said softly, almost whispered - perhaps he’d heard Malfoy wrong?

“You’re welcome.” Professor Lupin smiled, which for a moment took about a decade off his face. God, the prat really had said that, hadn’t he? 

Malfoy gave a barely perceptible nod, before turning and starting towards the door, a light blush still suffusing his cheeks. Muttering a curse under his breath, Harry leapt up and scurried off in the direction of the Great Hall as quietly and quickly as he could, barely managing to duck into a convenient alcove as he heard the creak of the classroom door opening. 

He waited for the blond to pass by him, turn the corner and for his footsteps to fade before he dared to follow after. By the time Harry made it to lunch, his shock had faded somewhat and he found that all he could think about was one thing. 

If Malfoy was gay, as he had all but admitted to their DADA Professor, then his crush most certainly could not have been Hannah Abbott. Which begged the question: which boy whose name started with ‘Ha’ could it possibly be? 

Distracted, he accepted the plate Hermione pushed in front of him as he sat, and answered Ron’s question (“What did Lupin say?”) with a shrug and “Nothing important.” 

Hermione was eyeing him a little suspiciously, so he tried to divert her attention by asking, “How many boys are there in Hogwarts whose name starts with ‘Ha’?” 

“Well, there’s you,” Ron pointed out around a mouthful of food. 

Harry’s brain immediately froze at that, and then went into overdrive. He hadn’t even considered it! Was it possible that Malfoy _liked_ him? Malfoy, who snarled and sneered at him, but who was clever, interesting and witty, and whom Harry was at times unable to keep his eyes off of? What if it _was_ him? What would he do about it? Why would he _do_ anything? 

Oh Merlin, what was  _ wrong _ with him? 

He realised that he hadn’t responded for too long, and let out a sharp bark of incredulous laughter that made Ron jump in his seat. “No! No, no, I meant other than me. Obviously.” 

“It wasn’t obvious,” the redhead muttered. 

“Why do you want to know? Is this about Malfoy’s boggart?” Hermione asked. 

“Of course not!” Harry protested, too high-pitched and a little too quickly, “I’m just wondering! No reason at all.” 

Harry was beginning to regret having asked the question at all. 

“What about Hagrid?” Hermione suggested, which startled Harry into giggles and prompting them for more names. 

By the end of lunch, none of them had managed to think of anything at all, though they’d resorted to asking several other Gryffindors and learnt that there was a Harold in 7th Year and a Hank in Hufflepuff. Harry had almost immediately discarded both as unlikely candidates for Malfoy’s… affections, while Ron and Hermione were losing interest and gaining suspicion in his seemingly arbitrary pursuit. 

As they exited the Great Hall together, Harry still deep in thought and uncertain about  _ why  _ it all mattered to him so much, he spotted a familiar head of hair ahead of them, the exact shade of white-blond as Draco Malfoy’s. He was going up the stairs alone, missing the hulking shapes of his bodyguards beside him. Harry didn’t waste time pondering why; an opportunity as perfect as this to ask Malfoy himself about it may not present itself again -- the Gryffindors’ next class was Herbology, meaning that he could ask Ron and Hermione to go ahead, using the excuse that he’d left something in his dorm to follow Malfoy up the stairs. 

Turning to his best friends, Harry hurriedly did exactly that, pretending that he’d just remembered that his Herbology homework was still on his desk. He didn’t wait for their response before chasing after the blond boy. 

“Malfoy!” He called when he reached the third floor landing. 

The other boy whirled around so swiftly Harry winced, worried that he’d fall down the stairs or give himself whiplash.

“Malfoy,” he said again, for lack of anything better. 

“Potter,” Malfoy spat, but he was carefully not looking at Harry, and Harry was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the pink spreading up his neck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harry was sorely tempted to reply that he hadn’t the slightest clue, but some part of him  _ did  _ know why -- he just wasn’t sure he could face it. But he took a deep breath, screwed up his courage and marched up the stairs to Malfoy.

“I need to ask you something,” he said with determination.

Sometimes, Harry decided, you just had to be a Gryffindor about these things.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm embarrassed that I wrote this entire fic just for one wordplay - that Draco's boggart is coming out of the closet, both literally and because it's his greatest fear. I hope that was obvious enough. :'D Also, I'm sorry if the class laughing at Draco coming out is upsetting / triggering for anybody. Please assume that it's entirely because of the flamboyant manner in which boggart-Draco does it, and not because anyone is against homosexuality. Like, the teasing kind of laughter and not the bullying kind...   
> I'm too lazy to continue this but I believe Draco and Harry eventually get together (after a lot of embarrassing manoeuvring of emotions), and fluffy shit ensues, but of course you're free to think whatever you want. xD


End file.
